


we'll talk later

by whiskybusiness



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Confessions, First Kiss, M/M, Short & Sweet, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25212265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskybusiness/pseuds/whiskybusiness
Summary: “Sounds like I should be the one wining and dining you,” San says finally.Seonghwa blushes, cheeks warm from the heat of the sun. He takes the call off speaker. “It’s 10 o’clock in the morning,” he says, pressing the phone to his ear.
Relationships: Choi San/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 40
Kudos: 199
Collections: Sanhwa Week 2020





	we'll talk later

“Are you done practicing?” Seonghwa asks, as soon as he sees the call go _connected_. 

San’s laugh comes out tinny through the speaker. “Yeah, I just finished. Why?”

“Want to see the Trolls movie with me?” 

It’s a pretty day, if hot. Sweat trickles down Seonghwa’s damp neck, and he wipes a hand over his skin with a frown. He wants to be inside. Inside a movie theater, preferably. He wants to feel AC so cold he shivers. 

“Thought you were going with Yeosang?”

“It’s too early for him.” Seonghwa scuffs a shoe on the sidewalk. 

“So go later,” San suggests.

“Managers want us to go earlier ‘cause of the crowds. C’mon, San-ah, I really want to see it.” That sounds a little desperate, but it’s just San. It’s fine to sound a bit dumb. “Come with me. I’ll buy the popcorn.”

He hears a rustling sound from the phone. Then San sighs. “Shouldn’t have crap food,” he says. “But okay, I’ll come on one condition.”

“Yeah, anything,” Seonghwa says, grinning in delight. Inside, he’s screeching. Finally! A relaxing day off, doing something he’s wanted to do for ages, and he doesn’t have to do it alone. 

“You have to make it like a real date.”

The sidewalk distorts under Seonghwa's eyes. "Come again?” 

“I said, I want the whole date experience.” San’s voice is crackly with held-in laughter. “Don’t wanna feel like Yeosang’s replacement. I want to be wined and dined, hyung.”

“That sounds like I’m trying to get you in bed,” Seonghwa says stupidly. Then he kicks himself. “I mean — why? I don’t even know what a date is like.”

There’s silence from the other end. Seonghwa holds the phone closer to his ear, listening intently. 

When San speaks, his voice is softer. “You’ve never been on a date before?” 

“I’ve, um.” Unsure, Seonghwa blinks at the ground. “I never had the chance,” he admits. He’s not sure why he feels so embarrassed — most trainees start too early to have time for dating. “Have you?”

“A couple times, when I was in 8th or 9th grade. That girlfriend I mentioned.”

“Ah. Cool,” Seonghwa says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

At this point, they all know each other’s dating histories. Wooyoung and Mingi bring it up every time they get drunk, which is more times than Seonghwa can confidently count. Most of the group is like Seonghwa: never had a girlfriend, even pre-pubescent, when the act of holding someone’s hand made them your girlfriend. 

So yes, Seonghwa has never had a girlfriend, and he’s never been on a date.

“Sounds like I should be the one wining and dining you,” San says finally.

Seonghwa blushes, cheeks warm from the heat of the sun. He takes the call off speaker. “It’s 10 o’clock in the morning,” he says, pressing the phone to his ear.

“So? What time’s the movie?”

 _That’s not the point,_ Seonghwa wants to say. And he wants to ask, _Did you mean —_ but he can’t. It’s just a joke, anyway. “The showing’s at 11:20, so we’d need to leave around 10:30,” he says. “They said I could take the car.”

“Gotcha.” San’s yawn is loud even through the phone. “Can you pick me up on the way?”

“You’ll be gross, San-ah.” 

“I’ll shower before,” San shoots back, and then Seonghwa hears the sound of running water. Oh, so San is in the locker room. He’s just — he’s about to shower. That’s good, Seonghwa thinks, swallowing. He’ll be clean. “Can I go now, hyung? I promise I’ll be ready.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” Seonghwa hangs up with a strange feeling inside his chest. 

It’s not a date, he tells himself. Even so, Seonghwa heads inside and spends the spare remaining minutes changing into clothes that are a bit more intentional. Nicer. 

In the end, he chooses the cardigan with the tiny cherry decal. He’d worn it for his birthday live, and San had said he looked good in it, tucked in the corner watching him livestream. But that’s not why Seonghwa picks it. It’s one of his favorite cardigans — just oversized enough to be cozy, but not thick enough to make him sweat. 

After a minute looking in the mirror, Seonghwa decides the sweater dips down too far for the outside world. He slips on a white t-shirt underneath, then pulls on comfy light-wash jeans. 

His hair has gone wavy with the heat, the fringe flopping over his forehead. He doesn't look too bad. 

Not that it matters, of course. 

The ride to the company is short and sweet. Their new driver is quiet, so they lapse into silence after pleasant introductions, and Seonghwa is left to doze in the cool, clean air.

San is standing right outside when they pull up. 

“We’re matching,” is what San says when he climbs into the backseat. He grins at Seonghwa’s cardigan, then looks down at his gray, buttoned-up sweater. “Couples ‘fits.”

“Shut up, San-ah,” Seonghwa says, awkwardly aware of the driver. 

San is wearing his favorite black beanie, the one he’d worn watching Seonghwa’s vlive. When he’s barefaced, the hat makes him look like an adorable monkey. Seonghwa doesn’t let it distract him. Instead, he leans back into his own space and settles into the seat, neck tingling with warmth. 

“You look great,” San tells him earnestly. Like he has no sense at all. “You look really nice, hyung.” 

“I look like normal.” Feeling warm, Seonghwa rolls the window down.

“Well then, you always look nice.” 

Hm. Seonghwa shoots him a suspicious look, frowning. What’s San’s angle today? There’s a glint in his eyes that’s usually only there when they’re acting for the cameras. 

“How was your practice?” Seonghwa asks him, steering toward safe waters. 

“Aren’t you going to say I look nice?” San’s innocent gaze falls away quickly. “Fine, it was good. I was learning more of Kick It.” He raises his arms in a cramped imitation of the song’s signature move, and Seonghwa smiles despite himself. “We should practice more together,” San tells him, arms falling down to his sides. 

“Okay, soon,” Seonghwa promises. Even if they barely have time to learn their own choreos, it’s worth it to see the answering smile on San’s face.

A second later, San’s phone rings with a call from his dad. 

They spend the rest of the drive like that — San’s Gyeongsang satoori filling the car with the sounds of home. San sounds so much more animated speaking like this. Smiling, Seonghwa listens to the rise and fall of his tone, to the words curled into beautifully familiar shapes. It makes the warmth in his stomach swell into a flickering heat.

“It’s raining that hard?” San laughs after he asks the question. “Alright, take care. Talk to you later,” he adds, then hangs up the phone.

“How is he?” 

“Annoyed about the weather. He says hello, by the way.” 

That’s sweet. He’s only met San’s father a few times, but he’s a lovely person. “That’s kind of him,” Seonghwa says, trying to hide how pleased he feels. 

The movie theater is one of their favorites when they want to go out without a crowd. With masks covering half their faces, Seonghwa thinks they look almost unrecognizable when they thank the driver and climb out of the car. 

As soon as they step foot inside, San loops their arms together. “You want popcorn?” he asks.

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to buy it,” Seonghwa says, a bit distracted. This close, San smells like clean shampoo. His hair is still wet where it curls under his beanie, since he was too lazy to dry it properly. 

“Let me, hyung.” San smiles at him impishly. “I’m taking you on the date, after all,” he adds, before unlinking their arms and walking over to the food counter. 

Seonghwa stands there like a scarecrow, blinking after him. 

So the joke’s still on. Okay. He can play along, if San wants to. It can be San’s reward for spending their free day with him, instead of hanging at the dorm with the others. 

Tickets purchased, Seonghwa has his reply all ready when San returns. “Are you going to call me oppa, too?” he asks, taking one of the sodas out of San’s hands. 

He’s absolutely joking. But San just looks at him, and the mask makes it difficult to read his expression. “Whatever you want,” he says. “Are you having fun with me, Seonghwa oppa?”

The words send a thrill down Seonghwa’s spine. 

He doesn’t know why. It’s ridiculous — he’s been called oppa as a joke before, and each time he laughs it off easily. This time, something feels different. 

Maybe it’s because they do look a bit like a couple, in their similar outfits and matching black masks. If anyone was watching, they would see the ease of familiarity in how he and San touch each other, how they speak to each other. It’s not impossible that someone might make that kind of assumption, even if they’re both boys. 

Men, now. Even if it doesn't feel like it sometimes. 

Anway, that must be why Seonghwa is so edgy. “We’re going to be late, San-ah,” is all he says, and he squints at the tickets before finding the right theater to head to.

There’s no one else in the theater when they step inside. Seonghwa feels that in his spine too, even though it doesn’t matter if they have the whole theater to themselves. It’s the movie that he cares about, not the ambience. 

“What’s this about again?” San drops into his seat so carelessly that popcorn spills out onto the floor. 

Seonghwa takes the bag out of his hands. “It’s about musical trolls,” he says. San gives him a look. “What? I’m not going to spoil it.”

“It’s a sequel! What if I can’t understand the whole movie?”

“Fine.” Sighing, Seonghwa gives him a one-minute summary of the first movie, explaining the backstory. He has to concentrate very hard on remembering it all, since San’s face is now free of the mask, and he’s staring intently at Seonghwa, nodding and humming whenever Seonghwa pauses for breath. 

Why is he _doing_ that? “And that’s it,” Seonghwa says when he’s finished, turning to the screen. “Now let’s watch.” 

Silence blooms as the latest preview ends. “Thanks, oppa,” San whispers.

Seonghwa shivers. He’s about to raise a joking hand, but then the lights dim into black, and the movie begins.

It’s a cute movie, that’s for sure. Seonghwa loved the first one so much he’s seen it at least twenty times. He might be the eldest of them all, but he’s a sucker for cute things like this, for plushies, or any squishy thing with round cheeks, real or virtual.

Beside him, San keeps exaggerating his reactions to what happens on screen. Loud _oohs_ and giggles, tugging on Seonghwa’s arm at anything especially exciting. Usually he isn’t so loud, outside of dorm movie nights, but Seonghwa figures it’s the rare privacy. 

And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t cute. He sneaks glances at San’s face every so often, taking in his wide eyes and open mouth. 

It’s a really fun movie. Seonghwa is just — he’s really happy he’s here, right now. Watching this, sharing the experience with one of his favorite people. He knows San only came to make him happy, but he didn’t have to. And Seonghwa is just _content._

He jumps when a voice speaks into his ear. “Do you like it?”

Seonghwa draws in a breath. “Yeah,” he says, too afraid to turn his head at all. He hears a hum, and then San’s head nestles onto his shoulder, tucked into his neck like a perfect fit. 

It’s far from the first time they’ve sat like this, but it feels oddly real, just like before. It feels special. It feels like only the two of them exist, them and the brightly colored trolls speaking in fast-paced English on the screen. 

“Is this okay?” 

“Yeah,” Seonghwa whispers, scared to break the moment. 

With another soft hum, San wriggles closer to him, as much as possible given the armrest between them. “‘M cold, hyung.” 

_Okay?_ Seonghwa blinks, only half-watching the movie. His heart feels funny. 

With as much care as possible, he withdraws his arm from under San’s body and raises it hesitantly, hanging over the back of San’s seat. “You — do you…?”

“Yeah, go for it,” San tells him, nudging even closer. 

He’s so small, Seonghwa thinks, wrapping his arm around San’s shoulders. He can feel San’s ribcage expand against his chest, warm from the contact between their bodies. 

San is broader than he was when they debuted — he’s filled out a bit, and his voice isn’t the high-pitched squeak it used to be. His face has lost its baby fat, and now his cheekbones poke out, and his jaw is a sharp line. 

Despite the changes, he still feels small and precious in Seonghwa’s hold. 

When they're close like this, it's impossible to forget how very important San is. How much like glue he is, the strongest kind — binding and unbreakable. He’s their glue, but here he is: breathing softly on Seonghwa's shoulder; huffing tiny, amused sounds at the screen. 

San is strong, inside and out. Resolute, empathetic, highly perceptive. Rarely vain, despite how he often makes Seonghwa want to sit and stare at him for hours. Goofy, energetic, humble. There aren’t really enough words to describe him. 

He's so many things, and Seonghwa is often left to blink at him, anchoring himself with San’s presence. Taking and taking. Sometimes Seonghwa feels like they all take it for granted, San’s steadiness. Himself included.

But he still takes, because he just can’t _stop._

The movie ends, and Seonghwa reaches up to rub at the tears building behind his burning eyes. 

“Hyung,” San complains, jarred by the movement. A second later, fingers touch the back of Seonghwa's hand, which is covering his eyes. “Aw, did it make you cry?”

 _You made me cry,_ Seonghwa wants to say, but that makes no sense at all. San made him cry, just from pretending they were on a date? From tucking himself into Seonghwa’s body like he wanted to make a home there? 

“Hyung,” San says again, softer, when Seonghwa doesn’t respond. His fingers draw Seonghwa’s hand off his face, careful and hesitant. 

Blinking tears, Seonghwa sucks in a hitched breath. “Sorry, San-ah,” he tells his knees. “Yeah, it was good.”

“Is it just the movie?” San’s voice is quiet, and Seonghwa has to strain to hear him over the sounds of the end credits. “You can talk to me, hyung.”

“It’s not important,” Seonghwa says. 

San makes an affronted noise. He pushes himself up further. “You’re important.”

“It’s — I just have a lot of feelings.” That’s one way to put it. Vague, but still entirely true. Seonghwa’s heartbeat feels too loud in this big space. “It’s fine, really.”

For a while, San is quiet. Then: “Is this about Hongjoong hyung?”

What? Seonghwa turns to him in surprise. “Why would it be about Hongjoong?”

“I thought…” San stops, looking oddly unsure of himself. “Look, don’t be mad, hyung, but do you — I thought, maybe, you had a crush on him?” 

“A crush on _Hongjoong?_ ” 

Now San is the one who can barely meet Seonghwa’s eyes. “Um. Yeah?” 

“No,” Seonghwa says emphatically. The thought makes him chuckle, bemused. “I really don’t. Why would you think that?”

He’s very curious, all of the sudden. Curious about what exactly San has seen to make him think along those lines, because yes, Seonghwa plays around with their leader as much as he does with any of them. It’s partially for the fans, and partially because Hongjoong is so fun to tease. But it doesn't mean anything.

San’s eyes are round and confused. “I just, you know. You’re always talking about how much you — you’re always joking about wanting him to pay attention to you.”

“I love him,” Seonghwa says honestly. “Sanie,” he adds, and then he doesn’t quite know what to say. “I love him, but not as anything more than a friend. A really good friend.”

It’s the truth, so Seonghwa doesn’t understand why San’s mouth is now pressed into an unhappy line. “Oh,” San says quietly.

They’re going to be kicked out of the theater any moment now, which is not ideal, because there’s always a chance someone will recognize them. But for now, the credits are still rolling on, and Seonghwa doesn’t like the look on San’s face at all. 

“I do that with you, too,” he ventures. “You do that. We all do.”

“But you don’t — I don’t mean it.” San looks away, and now _he_ looks like he’s about to cry. 

It makes Seonghwa’s stomach clench. He really, really doesn’t want to see San cry, so he reaches out and grabs San’s hands, wrapping their fingers together firmly. “What don’t you mean?” he prompts.

“I — I don’t mean it with the others, hyung.” 

The logical implication is making Seonghwa’s head spin. “With the others?”

“I like you,” San says faintly. His throat moves as he swallows. “Hyung, I was joking before, with oppa and everything, but I do. I like you, and I know it’s weird, and I’m sorry —”

Seonghwa leans forward and kisses his cheek. When he makes contact, San’s fingers squeeze his hand hard enough to hurt, and he hears a stunned intake of breath. 

It lasts for less than a second, but Seonghwa is blushing dark red when he draws back. There’s a fire inside his chest like the one he’d felt watching San talk to his dad. “I like you too,” he whispers, and then clears his throat. The dumb tears are threatening to rise again, but this time they feel sweet. “Sanie. I like you like that. I think you’re so great.”

No one’s ever given him points for eloquence. 

“You’re kidding,” San says after a moment. He stares at Seonghwa with wide, disbelieving eyes, his hands twitching inside Seonghwa’s fingers. “Hyung. Don’t joke.”

“I’m not joking. Why would I be joking?” Seonghwa is very far from joking. He feels giddy. San _likes_ him.

“You think I’m the little brother you never had,” San accuses him. "Come on, you like hanging out with Yeosang more than me. You don't—"

"I like you so much," Seonghwa cuts him off. How can San not see it? He’s always so obvious. "You're as close to me as a brother. You're smart, and kind, and funny, and," he swallows, "attractive, and very disciplined."

"Hold on, what was that last one?"

At least he can see the glimmer of a smile on San's face now, instead of the beginning of tears. It's worth the pain. "I said you were very disciplined," Seonghwa tells him, gritting his teeth. 

San squeezes his hand. "No, the one before that." 

This is so embarrassing. "You know you're attractive,” Seonghwa makes himself say. Of course San is beautiful. Their whole group is visuals, and San is no exception. 

"I didn't know you thought so." San's expression turns thoughtful. "You really think about me like that?"

How to answer that? Seonghwa coughs. "I — I think. You're…"

"I'm...?" 

"Shut up." Seonghwa groans, covering his flushing face. "I don't think about you as a younger brother, San-ah. Let's leave it at that."

"That's really good to know." When Seonghwa opens his eyes, San's gaze is wide and excited. "I think you're really hot, hyung. I think about you all the time. When Mingi's asleep, I —"

Seonghwa makes a garbled sound, ripping his hands out of San's grip. "Okay!" he says, trying not to shout. "Let's just. Let's calm down, okay?" 

"Sorry.” Blushing, San looks around at the empty theater. “I forgot we were…"

"It's fine," Seonghwa tells him. It’s mostly fine. With just a few words, Seonghwa’s abdomen is suddenly tense and hot with a strange kind of awareness. _I think about you all the time._ "We should really go. We can talk about it later, okay?"

He's trying really hard to be a good hyung, but San stares at him, unmoving. "Could we," he says. "Before we go back. Could we…?" His eyes dip down to Seonghwa's mouth, then back up. "Just quickly. If you want?"

This is such a terrible idea. Seonghwa wants to so badly his heart is beating a strange, irregular rhythm, rattling in his chest. "Really quick," he allows. 

When San’s mouth presses onto his own, he remembers to close his eyes. San’s lips are soft and dry, and his hand cradles Seonghwa’s jaw, holding him steady.

It feels nice. Firm pressure on his lips, the heat of San’s body curved toward his own. Seonghwa wants to keep kissing. He wants to press closer, to pull the beanie off and run his hands through San’s hair. There are hot spikes in his stomach telling him to tilt his head, to open his lips, to push his tongue into San’s mouth. To — 

Seonghwa pulls back with his heart racing. 

"That was nice," San says after a beat. The kiss wasn’t wet at all, but he wipes a hand over his mouth, drawing Seonghwa's eyes to where his own lips had just been. "Was that, uh. Did you like it?"

"I liked it," Seonghwa says hoarsely. He lets himself look for another moment — San’s brown eyes are dark, nearly black, reflecting tiny pinpricks of light as he stares back at Seonghwa. 

They really need to leave the theater. He clears his throat. “We should go?”

Nodding, San runs a hand through his hair. 

Outside the theater, they wait in the sweltering afternoon sun. Seonghwa feels twitchy, his brain whirling in circles. Wouldn’t it be amazing if he could just take San’s hand, right here? Interlock their fingers, pull down San’s mask and sneak a kiss right onto his cheek, then watch as he turns to Seonghwa, pleasantly surprised. 

Seonghwa has a lot of thoughts, all of the sudden. 

The driver pulls up a moment later. “Sorry to make you wait, gisa-nim,” Seonghwa says, fidgeting as he buckles himself in. 

“No trouble at all. How was the movie?”

“It was awesome,” San says, and gives him a cheerful rundown of the plot. Impressive, given that Seonghwa was too distracted to absorb much more than ‘musical trolls.’

San’s explanation is cut short when the driver gets a call, probably a manager checking up on them. Seonghwa doesn’t listen. 

“Hey,” San says to him, voice pitched low. “How is this going to work, do you think?”

He looks just as fidgety as Seonghwa. Did they really just kiss, like something out of a drama? It’s only been minutes since then, but Seonghwa is looking at him longer than he should, and he already wants to do it again. 

“We can just — act like usual,” he says quietly. “We shouldn’t say anything. For now, at least. You know we can’t really...” he lapses into silence, hands clenched on his knees. 

“I know.” San’s hand moves like he wants to reach out, but then it drops back down to his lap. “I know we have to —” he lowers his voice even more — “hide, and sneak around. But, hyung, just so you know, I — I already might have told someone.”

“Already?” Seonghwa gapes at him. That’s impossible. “How?”

San blushes. “Not about this. About the whole liking thing.”

“Oh. Wooyoung?”

“...and Yunho.” 

“San-ah,” Seonghwa groans, wanting to slouch into his seat and pass away. He’s flushing to think that so many of them knew, while he was so oblivious. 

“What?” Lips scrunched, San frowns at him. “I can’t talk about it with them?”

San, telling Wooyoung and Yunho that they’re into each other. San, talking about how Seonghwa cried at a children’s movie and kissed his cheek, and then kissed his lips. “Maybe not the details,” Seonghwa manages. “If you don’t mind. We still live together, you know.”

“Guess we’ll be mixing business and pleasure.” Seonghwa really does hit him for that, a light smack on the shoulder that makes San jump toward the car door, giggling in surprise. “Hey!”

“You deserved it,” Seonghwa tells him. “Thank you so much,” he says to the driver, echoed by San, and then they step out of the car. 

It’s nearly 2pm. The rest of the group is probably still sleeping, or lying in bed on their phones. 

To Seonghwa, it feels as if the whole experience will disappear as soon as they go inside. A dream, one that makes you wake up feeling warm and buoyant, until you realize none of it was real. 

Seonghwa doesn’t want to go inside. 

“What are you going to do now?” San asks, reaching out to tug at his arm. The contact is familiar, and it eases the nervous ache in Seonghwa’s body. “Are you coming to dinner later? Wooyoung wants to try this new barbecue place in Hongdae.”

“I’ll come,” Seonghwa says, lighting up at the happy look it produces. Then he focuses. “I’ll probably nap for a bit, what about you?”

“Same. Hey.” San reaches out and brushes the back of his hand against Seonghwa’s fingers. The touch isn't firm, but it's lingering, emphatic. San's eyes are lit up with an expression that Seonghwa can’t read. “I can’t believe you like me,” he says softly. 

“Are you serious?” Seonghwa raises his eyebrows. Ridiculous. What does he have to do, plant one on him right here? “I said I like you a lot. I can’t believe _you_ like me.” 

“You can’t believe anything,” San says, but he’s grinning wider now. He reaches out again, and this time he squeezes Seonghwa’s hand for a quick second. “Sleep well, jagi-yah.” 

“Yah!” Before Seonghwa can smack him, San skips up to the entrance, a bounce in his step. 

Seonghwa stares after him. _Ridiculous,_ he thinks again, his heart pounding. 

San, his jagi. Part of himself. His other half. Oh, Seonghwa is going to get back at him for that. 

He gets in bed thinking about his revenge, a thrill in his stomach when he imagines calling San _honey_. Or even oppa, just to see what happens. 

Nestling into the sheets, he wonders what San is thinking about, tucked into his own bed. Is he thinking about Seonghwa? He’d said — what had he said at the theater? _I think about you all the time_ , Seonghwa remembers. He doesn’t think he could forget. 

Then, warm and pleased, he drops off into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :)


End file.
